


Anything

by QueenoftheBritons (orphan_account)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Canon Era, Dark Merlin (Merlin), I don't know, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Unrequited Love, this just sort of happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28019760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/QueenoftheBritons
Summary: Arthur didn’t offer another word, and Merlin leaned down, crouching so they were eye to eye. He was sure his heart was pounding, but it could not compete with Arthur’s. He inspected the king in the dim light they had, before cupping his face in his hand; he was almost surprised when it wasn’t forced away, but he took advantage of the king’s shock.His lips turned, his eyes following, and he sounded solemn when he whispered to the king, “there was a time I would have done anything for you; everything that I was belonged to you, and I loved you more than I loved myself.”
Comments: 27
Kudos: 106





	1. Anything for You

Merlin’s departure from Camelot was much quieter than his arrival; there had been no pyre, no argument with a prissy prince, and nobody to see him off. With a bag on his back and his familiar scarf wrapped around his neck, he left the citadel as if he had never been there at all. He shrugged the bag into place as he strolled through the black night, the night sky covered with rough clouds shrouding the moon and its stars, but Merlin knew his way. Offering a final glance to the tiny window he knew belonged to the physician’s quarters, he was on his silent way home.

“Will was right,” Merlin said with only a hint of bitterness, the spoon of porridge waiting between the bowl and his mouth. “I meant nothing to him.”

Hunith was always one to offer a kind or wise word, something of hope. But as Merlin watched her struggle to find anything, he focused back on his food, and sensed when his mother did the same.

“I can’t help him.” Merlin put his hand on the man’s forehead again, knowing it was an act for show and nothing more.

“They said you trained,” a woman begged by his side, hovering around him as he packed away what little supplies he had brought. “With a physician in the palace, at Camelot.”

“I’m sorry.”

She grabbed at his arm as he made to leave; his eyes flicked to her white knuckles as the grip was tightened, eyes frantically bursting. “You’re the only one I can ask! Nobody else here is trained, like you.”

He tapped at her hand with his own, but only before removing the softening grasp she held. His eyes told her what he had already tried to, and he did everything he could to console her as she fell into a seat with a sob that would break any man’s heart, but did nothing to wake her husband.

“I could help him.” Merlin bit at a nail, standing behind his mother cautiously as if he were still a child.

“What?” she was whistling around the small space they called a kitchen, “you told her there was nothing to be done?”

“Not… not without magic.”

His mother came to a stop; it took a great deal to stop Hunith organising the household, but her head whipped around quickly, “are you mad?” he stared at her with a glint in his eye that suggested he most likely was. “You’ve just come back from Camelot because of your magic, and you,” she shook her head, “you want to use it now? To heal him?”

“It would save him!”

Hunith’s hands wrapped around both his arms, and she held the same wild stare his patient’s wife had, once again imploring him to do something – or, rather, not. “It’s just his time, Merlin. Nobody wants it, but you can’t do this!”

“Yes, I can!” he pulled away. “Do you know how many people I could have saved? Here? In Camelot? If I had been allowed to use my magic, people who didn’t need to die _wouldn’t_. If you won’t let me do this, then- then-”

“What?”

Her whisper tempered his anger, and he sighed, “then I have no point here. Anywhere.”

“Don’t say that-”

-“But it’s the truth! I’m the son of a dragonlord, what else am I here for, if not to use my magic?”

They stared at each other for a long while, until Hunith closed her eyes and dropped her head.

“I’m here to cure your husband.”

“My husband?” The crying wife was almost pushed out of the way by the old man with flowing white hair and draping robes. “My husband?” she followed him through where he found the unconscious man, not quite dead, not quite living. “What are you doing?” her voice was tearful but strong, just as her grip had been.

“He’s ill,” the old man mumbled, growing to the voice. “I can heal him.”

And the fear was gone, pushed away by hope when Merlin wondered if she would be better to remain cautious. “But, but, they said they couldn’t help… how?”

Old feet shuffled on the floorboards and the old man sniffed, “there is only one way I can help.” She waited. “But you have to be sure. I will cure your husband, I swear it.”

“What- of course, I’m sure!”

He stared at her, thinking back to the pleas of his mother. He saw her in this woman, and that’s exactly why he had to ignore them.

“The only cure is magic.”

The welcome, at first, had not been particularly… warm. But then individual villagers stood up and announced, “he’s done nothing but good for me,” encouraging others to do the same, until it was revealed that most of the villagers had used sorcery for one thing or another. In some cases, it was treatment for simple wounds or ailments, in others it was harvests, and there were a few particular cases Merlin was sure would never come up again.

He became a staple of the village, rather than a burden or a terror, and his mother had smiled at him when he wandered in on a normal day, transforming back from Emrys to Merlin. Still, when it was announced that knights of Camelot were in the area and the villagers offered their assistance in hiding him, he was still surprised by the gesture.

“I have to go,” he told his mother, with villagers watching on.

“They’ll hide you.”

“For how long?” he shrugged, “the knights will only keep coming back.”

Hunith swallowed, cupping his face in her hand, “your father said the same.” Her stare was over his head as her hand picked at his hair, “it’s wrong.”

“I know.”

Their eyes met and she squeezed his shoulder, “be safe.”

He found another village, this one inside – but close to the edge – of Camelot. It seemed a nice place, somewhere he could settle, and maybe even try again with his impossible destiny. Perhaps he could help in some way from here. A cruel thought in his mind asked why he should help an awful king, but he whisked it away after a moment or two.

This time he had meant to be careful, had considered keeping discrete. Still, all villages came with their issues; it wasn’t a sick man that caught his attention this time, but a simple harvest problem that he had dealt with before and thought he might as well help with again. He could hear his mother’s protestations in his head, but they weren’t enough to drown out his mumbling of the spell that transformed him into the Great Emrys.

Things happily played out as in Ealdor, with people growing to view him as a useful part of their little village. They even chatted with him, and some even asked to be taught a few things; he was hesitant at first, hearing Gaius’ voice accompany his mother’s, but neither was there. He was an outcast, and nobody could discipline an outcast.

“I knew a sorcerer like you,” an old man sitting across from him in their circle confessed as he stoked the fire. “Well, not exactly – she was a woman.” A loud chuckle spread around the circle, and Merlin felt comfortable in the company. “But she helped people, she helped my family. Never did she ask for anythin’ in return.”

After a moment, Merlin asked, “what happened to her?” though he was sure he knew.

The old man’s eyes met his across the light flickering and crackling between them; the children around the fire looked around for information, but the older villagers lost their cheer in the moment.

“We all listened to that Uther Pendragon,” another broke the silence. “But it’s true, even I’ve met nice sorcerers.” Merlin found a smile at the words, however oddly phrased they might have been. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever met a bad one.”

“I won’t pretend there aren’t any.” Merlin draped his hands over his knees, “but they are just the same as any bad man – give him a weapon and he’ll cause you just as much misery.” Sometimes you didn’t even have to hand them a weapon, Merlin thought bitterly.

There were hums of agreement around the circle.

“And that son, our new king, he’s just the same as his father. Don’t think he’ll ever see any different.”

Merlin didn’t rise to the argument to offer agreement, but found he could offer no defence either; that hand clenching his heart tightened ever so slightly.

Again, he was warned of the knights of Camelot approaching the village, and once again he refused the offer of help.

“Just remember what good magic did here,” he asked, “please.”

His life continued on this pattern, and slowly but surely, he began to forget why he ever hid himself away in the shadows. It hit him then, at village number five, that he had finally given air to that nagging thought in the back of his mind, that belief that Arthur could never remain his destiny – and he wondered when he had ever felt happier. He sent a messenger bird to the citadel before he hurried away from his temporary home, leaving the same message everywhere he travelled.

By the time he arrived at his next village, he found that the people knew him before he could utter his name. Although, they do not call him Emrys, or Merlin, but the Wandering Wizard. He smirked, proud of the title that had preceded him as the people readily accepted and asked for his help. This time he told the villagers not only of the kindness of magic, but said, “and there’s someone in the heart of Camelot, who can make a change.”

The people waited.

“As long as the people are behind it.” He stared out, eyes roaming over the crowd.

“Some of us were told how it used to be,” a young villager spoke out, “and we’ve seen it, with you. I would stand behind that.”

Merlin nodded gratefully to the youth, and soon others were agreeing.

“Who is it?” someone asked finally.

It had been a long time, and nobody had yet caught up with Merlin. Then there were rumours that the king was out there himself, begging anyone to put an end to this fiend who threatened his kingdom and undermined his authority. Unfortunately for Arthur, Merlin was not the only one who would bring in a hefty ransom should he be caught.

“Why are you going? The king’s been captured!”

Merlin continued packing his little bag, “because the knights will save him.”

“But we can hide you before they do.”

The warlock sighed heavily, patting his bag closed with an air of finality, before looking up at the youth trying to persuade him to stay.

“You shouldn’t have to, and I won’t let you.”

He had considered going to another village, but the opportunity was one too good to miss, and Merlin had to wonder if it had been set up; he could hardly move on if it was. The warlock trundled to the hidden away cave, where a few mercenaries were toying with their recent catch; it was nothing to put them under, and with a glow of gold they dropped to the ground.

“Who’s there?” a voice called out into the darkness, and Merlin’s eyes lifted with his smile.

He sauntered over to the bound king slowly, his robe slithering across the floor as his body transformed easily, right in front of Arthur’s eyes.

“Merlin?”

The warlock’s smile is a new one, specially prepared for the moment. “Arthur,” he nodded politely, looking around although he knew they were alone. There wasn’t a soul for miles, he had made sure. “Your knights?”

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered again, gawping.

Merlin rolled his eyes, “investigating your Wandering Wizard, I suppose?” he said the name with mock pomposity, eyes lighting up again with a grin that didn’t quite fit before. “Well, fourteenth time’s a charm.”

Arthur didn’t offer another word, and Merlin leaned down, crouching so they were eye to eye. He was sure his heart was pounding, but it could not compete with Arthur’s. He inspected the king in the dim light they had, before cupping his face in his hand; he was almost surprised when it wasn’t forced away, but he took advantage of the king’s shock.

His lips turned, his eyes following, and he sounded solemn when he whispered to the king, “there was a time I would have done anything for you; everything that I was belonged to you, and I loved you more than I loved myself.”

Their eyes never move from one another’s, but Arthur’s are more confused than Merlin’s. Oh, the poor king…

“Merlin?” Arthur repeated, and there was a time the warlock waited to hear his name whispered so softly on those lips.

Merlin moved closer, bringing his lips to hover over Arthur’s in a move that had once before revealed too many secrets and had him banished from his home. “Emrys,” he whispered against the skin, before brushing his lips over Arthur’s gently, breathing in the scent.

But he didn’t crave it like he used to, his heart was no longer Arthur’s, and so he moved his other hand in the air to summon one of the weapons lying on the ground. It was a dagger that came forward, and Arthur’s eyes glinted from the shine as soon as Emrys pulled away; the warlock recognised the panic in the king’s eyes and felt a thrum in his bones.

“You were my destiny, Arthur. Together, we would unite Albion and magic.” Emrys laughed bitterly as he stood, staring down at the pathetic king. “But you will always hate me, and you will always distrust magic; I’ve had to find a new destiny.”

Arthur was scrambling, attempting to sit up, eyes concentrated on the dagger. “Merlin-”

-“My name is _Emrys_.” With a voice so low, he commanded the silence that fogged over them, though he was certain he could still hear Arthur’s heart pounding. Time to bring this to an end.

Arthur’s eyes went wider, reminiscent of Emrys' beginning, and he felt the surety within his soul. The king tried to bring his hands from behind, but the mercenaries had done their job and their ties could not be undone. He took a panicked gasp of air, swallowed it, before those wide eyes looked down at the weapon protruding from his stomach. Lashes flicked against paling skin before those blues came back on Emrys, and the warlock wondered if he had ever seen them lose their light so quickly. He was sure he had seen it happen exactly once before.

“Stomach wounds kill, but they take time.” Arthur stared helplessly at his murderer. “Still, hardly enough time for your knights to figure out just where you are. When they do, you’ll be dead, and the mercenaries will take the blame.”

Watching Arthur turn back to struggling didn’t fill Emrys with a great deal of joy, but neither did it hurt.

The dying king picked his head up, finally facing Merlin properly, as an equal. “C-Camelot?”

Emrys’ grin returned, “did you know, Arthur, you aren’t Uther’s only child?”

Arthur’s stare was one of bewilderment, but Emrys was bored; his robe slithered back as he turned to exit to the sound of a struggling king.

At the entrance he paused, though, when Arthur’s breaths became heavy, and he whispered loud enough for the dying man to catch, “long live the queen.” 


	2. Anything for Destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sequel with added Morgana (and Gaius)! Please enjoy!

“By the sacred laws vested in me, I crown you… Emrys, King of Camelot.”

His second welcome in the castle was certainly warmer than the first; no longer was he fighting royalty, but joining it, even if only for convenience. When his new bride and queen held his hand to lift him, turning him to face the crowd calling, “long live the king,” he allowed himself to bask in the moment. In the step towards a greater world.

“Oh, Emrys,” Morgana called in a sing-song from her bed, removing the covers when he glanced over. “Will you not join me and consummate this marriage?”

The sorcerer almost choked, but when he brought his head back up he saw the smirk lighting his darling wife’s features, and he shook his head with something almost close to fondness. It had been a rocky road, but they were making their progress.

As if reading his thoughts, Morgana’s smile became more genuine, those eyes rounding to offer a softer sort of happiness that he couldn’t help but share.

They spent many mornings in their chamber, sometimes learning new spells, other times just showing off. Emrys laughed with it as he had with so many villagers, and that twinkle in Morgana’s eye when he offered her something new made his heart feel a little lighter, bit by bit trying to regain the hope that had left when the warlock entered Ealdor as a banished criminal.

“I was glad when I received word from you.” The lady brushed her unmade hair from her eyes as Emrys again told her of one of the villages he passed through, of the kind of people he met. “I missed you,” she said with a sincerity he wanted to believe.

He held her hand where it lay on his arm, and when she showed him another of her tricks, something he was positive he had never taught her, he can’t help but sound odd when he compliments her growing skill. Her responding stare at the compliment belied her own strange emotions, too, and Emrys wished he might figure out that which she kept trying to hide. At first, he assumed it was simple timidity, but he had experienced such before himself.

A knock at the door stopped his musings and their magic – almost unconsciously in fear – and Morgana called for her maid to enter.

Emrys smiled at the woman, Elise, he was sure was her name; they had barely spoken since he had returned to the castle, the maid appearing rather shy herself, her words hushed and her posture constantly alert. The warlock remembered when he might have taken her to the side and offered some words of comfort, but he was still trying to get used to not seeing Gwen following behind Morgana.

He had always seen Gwen’s admiration of Arthur, sometimes wondering if it could be more, and so when Morgana informed him the maid had left quietly when news came of Arthur’s death it made perfect sense in the moment. Still, the easy excuse began to melt away when he began to wonder why, when he questioned others in and out of the castle about where Gwen might have gone, they hurried away as if frightened to even hear her name.

“My Lady, I must ready you for the meeting with the council.” Not for the first time Elise broke into his thoughts, and he was almost grateful for being pulled out of the spiral he daren’t lose himself down, until the words registered in his mind.

“Meeting?” and he just about caught Morgana’s murderous stare aimed at the anxious maid, who took the hint with such speed that Emrys had to wonder if it was the first time she had faced it.

“Oh,” Morgana’s pale skin blushed only slightly, never one to be flustered. “It’s nothing, just the general meeting, you know.”

“And?”

“And?” she parroted defensively.

“I am the king.” He could bark as loud as she.

“By marriage alone.”

Emrys blinked, “so that we could unite Albion and free our kind _together_.”

There was a dreadful pause, one that had grown in frequency now they were comfortable enough in their positions with each other that they assessed one another every day.

Morgana broke it, though, with a sigh that did not fully convince him as she brushed a hand through her hair. “I know, I am sorry, Emrys.” He wished it to be true. “I’m just… I’m not used to doing all of this,” she waved her hands in the air, “least of all with someone by my side.”

And Emrys smiled, trying with all his might to push away that terrible feeling in his stomach at the deceptively innocent smile aimed his way. “I thought I would see Gaius today, anyway.”

“Gaius?” again, the expression he can’t quite place returned, and his eyes narrowed fractionally.

“I can go while you’re meeting with the council, I trust you to make the correct decisions.” The lies rolled easily from both their tongues now, so used to each other that they were. When Morgana hesitated in responding, he asked, “is everything alright?”

A breath and she was back, “yes, that’s fine!” her smile barely reached those darkening eyes. “You just seemed quite angry, when you saw him last time.”

“I’m sure now he’s had more time to settle into retirement it will be all right.”

The old man bowed mockingly, a move that clearly tore at ageing bones, when he realised who stood on his doorstep, shrouded in a cloak Gaius had actually gifted himself.

“I was unsure whether you would return.” He turned away, occupying himself with a task on the table. Emrys scanned the pots scattered around; so much for retirement. Gaius’ eyes flicked up back to him, still withholding any warmth that might have been there for the young lad who once needed his help. “Though, I suppose I should congratulate you, _Your Majesty,_ ” he spoke with a bite the warlock wondered if he was going to have to get used to.

Emrys could not hold back the eye roll, shutting the door behind him as if he hoped he might stay longer than his previous visits.

“I’m here to make amends, Gaius.” He tried, bringing full attention back to him as the old man stepped away from his desk expectantly. “Tell me what you said isn’t true,” he had practiced it before coming, yet still could not remove the pleading in his tone. “Tell me it was a lie, and I will put your case to Morgana to return as physician.”

“What?” it was the scoff, the grin, that flickered something in Emrys’ heart.

“Arthur wanted me dead, he sent the knights after me, admit it!” his voice was rising, but he managed to keep it calm as his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. Gaius picked up on the tick, silently assuring himself he knew the warlock so well; the flicker was turning into light.

“No,” Gaius said more calmly than Emrys could hope to be. “I told you the truth; Arthur sent the knights after you, he went after you, to bring you back.” The old man stepped forward in an audacious move. “He wanted to bring you home-”

-“To execute me!”

Gaius sighed, “if you believe that,” he blinked, “then you are not as wise as I once thought you were.”

Emrys felt himself tugging, holding himself back from pulling rank, from screaming, from grabbing the old man and _forcing_ the truth from him. He _couldn’t_ believe what Gaius had told him in the second week of his return, not now. Not when too much had passed.

Unfortunately, the old physician had no idea of the fire brewing, and he ignorantly stoked it, “and Morgana has you wrapped around her finger much more tightly than I thought she would; be wary of her, Merlin.”

The thin string holding him together snapped easily, as if he had no energy to fight the force, and his eyes shadowed underneath his brow as he stared down at the old, pitiful man. “My name is Emrys,” he said with a familiar growl, and for a second the setting changed, and his heartbeat quickened, but in a sharp blink it disappeared and Gaius still stood before him.

“You also told me that I could trust Arthur, that I should trust him with my life, and he _banished me_ ,” he spat at his old guardian. “I had to start over, Gaius – I started again with _nothing._ With _nobody_.” He threw an arm out to his side in anger, “and I do not believe your lies, I do not believe he came for me to welcome me back, I do not believe it!”

Gaius’ raised eyebrow asked the question Emrys was already wondering himself; who exactly was he trying to persuade?

He lowered his voice in his way, commanding the room overbearingly, egged on by Gaius’ apparent lack of anxiety. “And you knew, Gaius. You knew where I was; I was banished, but I left you a note of where I would be. You knew I was with my mother, and yet, I heard nothing. Not a single letter.” He stepped closer, “why?”

Finally, Gaius looked down, the guilt clear in the stress lines across his face. “I wanted to,” he admitted, “but I wasn’t sure-”

“You weren’t sure which side to take,” and a step closer, “where you would stay safe – which way the wind would blow.”

“No-”

He was in the old man’s personal space now, faces close so that he could stare the man dead in the eyes as he whispered at him with derision and hurt and anger, “liar.” He smirked, “you are a liar and a coward, and one day, your blind eye and your inability to defend anything will be your undoing, old man.”

He was used to sneaking around, and Morgana obviously underestimated his suspicions of her; most of the documents were easy to find. Secret treaties, alliances, odd letters from rulers of other kingdoms and even druids. Nothing he had ever seen before, yet they all involved Camelot, his kingdom. He wanted peace, he wanted harmony. Morgana seemed to want something more.

Slamming the door shut with such force, he sniffed, refusing to hear the whisper of his name from a voice he long ago silenced, refusing to shed a tear for how far he was, refusing to admit that he felt like he was losing grip of a destiny that was meant to be set in stone.

Emrys was careful not to show his anger in front of Morgana when he returned later that day, or when he simmered for the days following. Alone, he tossed things aside, he hit out in frustration, he screamed into a pillow. That look of _pity_ Gaius gave him was misplaced, but Emrys knew there was more there. There was realisation, there was knowledge. There was a problem.

Morgana disturbed him when he was sitting at his desk considering many different things, blinking out the eyes that wouldn’t leave his mind alone as he grew evermore tired. When the door opened and her head popped in, black waves draping over her shoulders as suspicious eyes watched him, he painted on his best fake smile, a tradition of sorts they had now.

“Are you coming, Dear?”

“Hm?”

“Cenred.” Emrys blinked. “We have a meeting.”

The way Morgana and Cenred chatted, joked, leaned into one another, it was clear to anyone with half a brain that this was not the first time they had met. Which was certainly interesting, considering this was Emrys’ first meeting with the king.

Listening on, uninvolved in the conversation, his fears of failing in his destiny festered away as he picked up bits and pieces of the conversation. It was obvious from the way Cenred had initially eyed Emrys up and down as if sizing him up that he enjoyed a fight, enjoyed superiority, and Emrys wondered just what Morgana was offering to this king.

“Why are we appeasing him? Surely, we are in the stronger position,” Emrys posed the question to the queen later that evening. “I don’t believe he has our people’s interests at heart.”

Morgana seemed almost annoyed that he was involving himself in an evidently private matter between her and the king, but shrugged, “he has assured me he wants to help those with magic.”

“I meant _all_ of our people.”

That heavy blanket of silence returned, and the pit in his stomach grew with each passing second as he was becoming increasingly sure of things.

“Well, you know what they say,” Morgana answered eventually, “keep your friends close.”

Emrys swallowed in an attempt to close the gaping hole inside of him.

Emrys pondered briefly how easy it had been to murder each one of the Pendragons. Uther had been relatively simple, although he had been caught out when Arthur turned to magic for a cure; the successor himself had been easier, putting himself in harm’s way to get rid of Emrys – _not_ to bring him home; now, Morgana had been surprisingly simple, too. He had to admit, of all he had expected her to pose the biggest challenge, and yet it was over in a night.

The witch had fallen, as so many had, into the trap of underestimating Emrys one too many times. He always suspected she was aware he did not fully trust her, but evidently she believed there was too much at stake for him to attempt her murder. All it had taken was an enchanted effigy underneath her bed which temporarily – but for long enough – took away her magic, and some poison he was well acquainted with as a physician’s apprentice. When Elise brought Morgana an evening drink, as she did every night, it was no difficult feat to empty a drop and watch his dear wife gasp as her life was stolen.

“I’m sorry,” he said stoically, holding one of her hands as her other one twisted into the sheets, head twisting and turning as she gasped like she was underwater. The sound hurt his ears, but he remained at her side. “I believe you once had good in you, once you had the best intentions, but I can see something changed.” He wondered if she could hear him as he gripped her hand, trying to keep her with him until he could bare his soul completely. “But perhaps I can bring peace to Albion still, fulfil the destiny. Alone.”

She thrashed and he just stared, carrying on sounding almost cold, but he was sure he wasn’t. He did care for her, as he once cared for Arthur. “You lied to me, about Arthur, about Gwen. Everything. I hate that I trusted you, that I trusted a Pendragon _again_.”

“You- you killed Arthur,” she struggled.

Emrys patted her hand, shushing her softly. With a nod he said, “destiny is bigger than all of us, and I won’t let anyone destroy mine, not when it can bring such happiness to so many.” His thumb stroked the back of her hand as her head began to twist again. “That’s why I’ve had to do this; I can’t allow you to carry on. And, this way, I will have to remove Gaius, too.” He confessed; Morgana gasped, and he wondered how much is shock and how much is desperation.

“I know he’s worked it out,” Emrys sighed. “He’s worked everything out, he knows. If I am to take my place as sole ruler, I can’t build my reign on any vicious rumours.” He tugged at her hand, trying for a smile. “Just think, a true start. A new beginning for all.” He softened again, “I know that at one point, you just wanted harmony, too. That you didn’t just want power for our kind. Well, I will bring harmony.”

Morgana’s breaths were coming in shorter bursts, her hand clawing at her neck doing so with great weakness; her eyes bulged in a wild, desperate panic that Emrys recognised too easily. “You will forgive me,” he told her.

Her head shook violently, a final act of defiance before the light left the circles of ocean green as it had those blues that haunted his dreams. The warlock, the sole ruler of Camelot, remained at her side for a time before calling for help.

Blaming Gaius was another easy step to take. Everybody knew he was not comfortable in his new lodgings that Morgana had forced him into, telling him he was too old to practice as the physician. Even Emrys knew she had removed him for her own benefit, just as she had removed Gwen, just as she had sent him lies about Arthur. Emrys also knew that Elise was friendly with Gaius, as she had confided in Emrys that she trusted the old physician much more than the new. What would it have taken for Gaius to slip in to see his friend, to drop something in a glass he knew was prepared for the queen every evening? Not a lot, Emrys convinced the people.

The old man was kneeling on the cold floor of the darkening courtroom, staring up at a man who had once pleaded for him to be helped back up from that very position. Staring at Gaius now, he recognised the old man’s stare as one of acceptance; they both knew there was never any turning back.

“Do you deny your part in Your Majesty’s murder?” Emrys came up from his throne, walking over to his old guardian with anger shadowing any sadness he might have felt at the sight. He stared the man dead in the eyes as he chose his next words carefully, “do you wish to stand up and make a defence? Have you picked your side?”

Gaius stared at him with something Emrys assumed was disappointment, but he felt he was right, and he didn’t back down until Gaius’ head dropped.

“I thought not.” Emrys looked up at the knights surrounding the man, “remove him from my sight.”

Once the criminal was dragged from the room silently, Emrys returned to his lonely throne, staring out at the castle with his head held high. A new era was to begin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it lived up to any expectations! Personally I'm mostly proud of the first one, but hey, I enjoyed writing more dark Merlin and it was fun to get all the practice - although I don't think any more in this particular AU is going to be forthcoming any time soon haha, but you never know!
> 
> Let me know your thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> I've just always wanted to write Dark Merlin and I found a prompt and I just wrote this, okay? I don't know what's happening either, but I hope you like it!  
> I actually really enjoyed writing this, I'll have to try some more Dark Merlin in the future.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts! :)


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